


I’d follow you through hell and back

by thedarkspacesinmymind



Series: Tristful Sonder [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blue Sonder (Video Blogging RPF), Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings of Abandonment, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Pre-Canon, Protective Wilbur Soot, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, but like, cause I ran out of ideas, feelings of betrayal, villain ranboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkspacesinmymind/pseuds/thedarkspacesinmymind
Summary: Wilbur would do anything for TechnobladeHe's beginning to wonder why
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: Tristful Sonder [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057445
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117
Collections: Blue Sonder AU





	I’d follow you through hell and back

**Author's Note:**

> K so, I initially started writing this like, two months ago, but then I got to the fight scenes and procrastinated like a coward.
> 
> Enjoy this little one shot that took far longer then it should have. I got lazy at the end so don't expect this to be my best work. it's not.

Few good things came of Wilbur’s time in Hell, a place where kill or be killed was law and only the strong survived. The best of which would always be meeting Techno, his brother in spirit if not blood. Wil would walk through hell and back for him, would fight every demon in the harsh underworld for his friend.

Which brought him to the only other good thing that came from growing up in Hell: It taught him how to _survive_.

Habit and instinct. Mastering the careful balance between discipline and impulse. That’s how you stay alive in the pit. How he and Techno had made it as far as they did when it was the two of them against the world.

Keep your friends close. Watch their backs and they’ll watch yours. Don’t keep secrets. These were the rules the two demons abided by, what had kept them alive as Techno’s reputation grew, rumors of his plan to ascend to the throne bringing unwanted attention to the duo.

So when Techno finally became king and broke all three, Wilbur became suspicious.

A naive, hopeful part of him had believed nothing would change. When Techno became king (he always knew he would), it would still be the two of them against all of Hell. No title could ever change that.

Of course, it was bound to happen eventually. Nights spent laughing around a campfire, living off whatever scraps they could steal were replaced by awkward dinners spent side by side yet miles apart at the long ebony dining table, silent save for the clink of silver cutlery against their plates. 

It seemed so sudden, how the days when they were inseparable gave way to Techno isolating himself in the throne room for hours on end, only emerging for silent meals and only ever speaking to voice his paranoia to Wilbur, believing any day demons would come to challenge him.

There were times he considered leaving. Techno clearly had no place for him in his reclusive reign, though he spent every day waiting for him outside those great iron doors, wondering if his friend would come out. It hurt more than he was willing to admit. 

Those tears were cried silently, In the dead of night as he lay awake missing the warmth of his friend’s body beside him. By day he became stoical and silent, speaking only to assure the king no demon would come to challenge him. Not while he stood guard. 

(He didn’t sing anymore. The sound of his hollow voice echoing through the empty corridors was too much to bear).

Still, he stayed. To protect his friend (if they were still friends, he hoped they could be). Techno might not be there, but Wilbur was. He would always be there, Techno meant more to him then anything.

(When he thought of leaving, he had known it would never happen).

Wilbur wasn’t a fighter. It just wasn’t the nature of his abilities. His teleportation enabled him to escape dangerous situations before a brawl broke out. When they’d been on the run, Techno had been the primary defense while Wil used his powers to deliver quick, sharp blows to the enemy, always teleporting out of reach before they could strike back. On the occasions when they were outnumbered, or Techno was too injured to keep fighting, Wilbur got them to safety. He had never once left his friend behind during a fight. He swore he never would.

Then, word spread of Technoblade’s ascension, and challengers began to arrive.

Wilbur looked up at the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone floor. As always, he leaned against the door to the throne room, arms crossed and posture slouched, counting down the hours until he would get to see Techno. 

He glared, unimpressed as the demon approached him. He was peculiar, with skin split down the middle into black and white halves, dressed in a handsome suit that couldn’t be suitable for fighting. White corners of his lips curled upwards in a malignant smile. When he spoke, it was as if two voices had melded into one, a deep and dissonant sound that resonated off the walls of the corridor.

“I have come to challenge the king,” he declared, moving to enter the throne room.

Wil was there, stepping forward to block his path before he could reach the doors. “I don’t think so.”

The demon glared at him, daring him to hold his ground.

Wilbur didn’t move.

“I can be a formidable force,” the demon warned, “You’d do well to step aside.”

“And you’d do well to leave while you have the chance.”

The demon observed him through eerie, heterochromatic eyes. One blood red, the other a toxic green. Then, a crack seemed to form on the line running down his face, and Wilbur watched in horror as a second demon seemed to _step out_ of the first. The now two demons glared down at him menacingly.

He gulped.

-

Wilbur had a rule, back when he lived alone, to never pick a fight where he was outnumbered. This rule kept him alive, and when he met Techno, it kept both their arrogance in check. Back when they thought together, they could topple Hell.

Wilbur wasn’t feeling arrogant now.

Back to the door, the hand holding his dagger pinned behind him as the white skinned demon held him firmly in place with an arm across his chest and the other aimed a knife at his throat.

The cruel irony was Wilbur could get out of this easily. With the blink of an eye he could teleport away, let his attackers taste the bitter end of _his_ knife. But of course he couldn’t do that. Not when he was the only thing standing between the challengers and Techno. Techno, who had remained safe inside the throne room as a fight raged loudly outside. Techno, who had battled the demon king and lived.

Techno, whose help would be really useful right about now.

The tip of the knife dug slightly deeper into the exposed skin of his neck, making his voice come out pitchy as he shouted desperately, “T-Techno! Please I- I need help!”

The dark skinned demon lightened the pressure only slightly, arching a brow at the metal doors waiting to see if they would open.

The doors stayed shut. Wilbur felt his heart drop, a cold well of betrayal taking its place. And in that moment, something inside of him _broke._

What happened after, he doesn’t want to remember. All he knows is Techno won’t be receiving any challengers for a while. Not after his... display.

He limped his way up the stairs, red oozing from a dozen different places and a hand against his throat to stop the trickle of blood leaking from the wound. He collapses in front of his vanity, barely strong enough to sit upright as he dresses his wounds. His fingers tremble, his work sloppy. Techno used to do this for him.

(When he feels a wetness on his cheeks, he’ll pretend it’s blood, and wipe it away along with the rest of the gore.) 

When he’s done he collapses in bed, too exhausted to even crawl under the covers. Vaguely, he’s aware he’s missing dinner. He can’t bring himself to care.

-

Techno is cold at breakfast the next day. The pinkette was never the most talkative person, not since becoming king, but this morning’s silence held a certain weight to it that made Wilbur weary.

The clang of silverware on the plate made him look up. Techno’s regard was sharp and mistrustful. He hadn’t looked at him like that since they’d first met, when Wil had tried to rob him.

“You missed dinner last night.” He said it like it was a personal offense.

“I did,” he said slowly. He waited for the question, _where were you, is everything okay? Why are there bandages covering your arms?_

Instead he was met with the scrape of a chair against the stone flooring, as Techno stalked wordlessly out of the room.

-

Wilbur was leaving.

No one could tell him he hadn’t tried. He had tried so _so_ hard, for his sake and for Techno’s. The pinkette had made it clear he wasn’t willing to do the same.

Everything was packed. A few changes of clothes, his daggers, and the broken guitar he’d salvaged and restored when he and Techno had first started traveling together.

 _Techno_. The name only served to deepen the pit of guilt in his stomach. How could he leave when his friend had no one? How could he betray him like this when Techno’s trust was already such a rare gift?

 _He betrayed me first._ He reminded himself, trying to steel his resolve. Techno had made it clear he didn’t care about Wilbur. Not anymore.

(He would never admit how that realization crippled him, weakened his heart until it was all he could do to stay standing, to not collapse to his knees and drown Hell in his tears.)

Now he stood before the doors of the throne room, satchel slung over his shoulder and fist poised to knock.

He hesitated. Not for the first time since leaving his room, the first time had been on the stairs, then the foyer. But now, this step forward wasn’t one he could take back. He knew as soon as Technoblade saw him, bag slung over his shoulder and guilt in his eyes, the truth would be lain before him like an offering, clear as day.

Deciding to forgo knocking, he took a breath to ground himself. Then, he pushed open the doors and stepped into the Demon King’s hall.

He had been inside the throne room only once before. Back on that fateful day, while Techno and Dream fought inside he had paced anxiously in the hall, waiting for the outcome of what would be a fight to decide the fate of Hell. And more importantly, the fate of his brother.

He remembered the scream that had tore through the palace, and Wilbur had locked eyes with the demon in the white bandana who was the current king’s companion. In that moment, the two sidekicks had come to a temporary truce, and together burst through the doors to the sight of Technoblade crouched over the writhing form of the fallen king.

He’d nearly sobbed in relief, barely registering how white bandana demon dragged Dream away from the throne room. He was already throwing himself at Techno, enveloping the pinkette in a hug.

He’d been too preoccupied to notice the way Techno's eyes flicked in confusion around the room, as if searching for the source of a sound he couldn’t hear.

Now as he stepped inside for the first time since the duel, he was struck by the sheer _grandeur_ of the room, the wide black marbled floors stretching for what seemed like miles towards a high dais upon which a wrought iron throne sat proudly.

The king however, appeared more exhausted then Wil had ever seen him. Techno slouched in his seat, a position that had to be _killing_ his back. His expression was pained, eyes squeezed shut and fingers rubbing against his temples, his lips moving as he murmured something indistinguishable under his breath.

Wilbur coughed to get his attention. Techno didn’t stir. The brunet doubted he had even noticed his presence. Resentment burned in him at the thought.

“Techno,” He said loudly. The pinkette’s eyes snapped open.

“Wilbur?” He croaked. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” The words died on his tongue. What was he doing? Techno was clearly a mess. He couldn’t leave him now, not like this.

(Or maybe he never would have left him anyway.)

“I’m, I’m here to… uh,” He struggled to come up with an excuse.

Techno’s eyes flicked to the bag over his shoulder. A cold look of realization and…hurt? dawned in them. Then his expression hardened, and the flash of emotion was gone.

“You’re leaving me?” He demanded accusingly, pointing a long slender finger straight at Wilbur’s chest. “After everything, you’re leaving?”

“I-” Part of Wilbur wanted to apologize, to plead forgiveness at his friend’s (were they even friends anymore?) feet. Another, stronger part of him wanted to rip the crown from Technoblade’s head. How dare he speak to him of betrayal? How dare he sit on that throne, the great Technoblade, the warrior, the _king_ , all the while hiding like a coward behind iron doors while Wilbur fought and bled for the life of someone he had once considered his brother. 

Shaking with anger and tongue without filter, he told him as much.

Techno stalked down the steps until he stood face to face with Wilbur. Arctic blue eyes boring into brown with a fury and intensity to rival the flames of Hell.

“Don’t _ever_ compare me to a coward,” he spat. “You don’t know what I’ve put myself through to protect you.”

Wilbur’s laugh came out mocking and humorless. “Oh really. What _you’ve_ done to protect _me_? You haven’t done shit for me since becoming king. I fucking _begged_ you to help me when I was outnumbered. And what did you do? Hide inside your throne room like a _fucking coward_. His chest heaved, his throat burned. The usually easygoing demon practically radiated anger. Techno said nothing, almost speechless after Wilbur’s outburst. Then he growled, “ _get out._ ” 

Had Wilbur noticed the way Techno’s blue eyes swirled with pink, like blood on snow, he might’ve listened. But all he saw was red, perfectly masking the blood lust in the other demon’s eyes.

He tilted his head in challenge. “Make me.”

Wilbur thought he hated Techno. He was wrong.

Wilbur thought he had finally given up on the demon who had hurt him.

He was wrong about that too.

Because what happened next, as Techno lunged and slammed Wilbur to the ground and red eyes burned into fearful brown orbs, Wilbur wasn’t angry. Afraid, yes. But not for himself.

He was scared for Techno.

Techno, who’s claws dug into the flesh of his throat, ripping open the scabs left over from his last battle.

Techno, who clearly wasn’t himself because _he would never hurt me this isn’t him this isn’t-_

“Techno,” he croaked, tears running down his cheeks and mingling with the metallic taste of blood. “Techno please.”

(Later he would wonder why he didn’t simply teleport away. Maybe because even now, moments from death, he knew he would never leave his friend in a fight.)

The claws dug deeper. Wilbur closed his eyes.

He whispered, "It’s okay."

And, "I forgive you."

Something seemed to change in Techno's expression. He blinked, coming back into himself.

The weight on his body lifted instantly. “W-Wil?”

“Techno?”

The confusion and shock melted out of his face and Techno broke down, sobbing. “Wilbur, Wil, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t- I can’t control them I’m-”

“Shhh,” Wilbur shushed him gently, pulling the other demon into a hug.

Techno tensed, then melted into the embrace, clinging to Wilbur like he was a lifeline.

(Maybe he was. Maybe they both were. Maybe what drowns them also keeps them afloat.)

Wil let him, burying his face in the other’s hair. Pink locks soaked in blood and tears.

They stayed that way for a long time, finally safe in each other’s embrace.

(They weren’t safe, not from themselves. But what did that matter? Together, they were home)

-

That night, as he dressed Wilbur’s wounds with trembling hands, Techno told him about the voices.

“They scream for bloodshed,” he confessed “I thought, maybe if I kept my distance, I’d be able to protect you. That they might go away.” He met Wilbur’s gaze, trying to convey all his sincerity and guilt and sorrow in his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said.

And he meant it.

-

Neither demon slept that night, afraid they would open their eyes the next morning and the other would be gone. They simply held each other, gazing up at the canopy above Wil’s bed and pretended it was a night sky, not that they had ever seen one.

Techno’s head was tucked safely underneath Wil’s chin, the latter twirling strands of pink around his fingers, playing with his hair. He sighed contentedly. He had missed this.

“Wil?” Techno spoke up.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s leave hell. Find somewhere safe where the voices can’t hurt us.”

Wil was silent for a moment, processing. “You’re sure?” He asked.

Techno nodded. “I’m not cut out to be king. I want things to be like they were, back when it was just us.”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Hadn’t he wanted the exact same thing? For the longest time, he had wished for a way to reverse the clock, to go back to the time before Techno became king, before the doors of a throne room had ever come between them.

Back then, he’d been naive to think things wouldn’t change. Now he doubted they could ever be the same again.

That didn't matter. With Techno by his side, who cared if everything was changing?

Wilbur said, “Okay.”

And, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is about writing dialogue that just makes me want to throw myself out the nearest window.
> 
> Consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed? My ego will thank you for it <3


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